


Of Phoenix, White Collar, and Blue-Eyed Partners Who are too Smart for Their Own Damn Good

by SabbyStarlight



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016), White Collar
Genre: Bromance of epic proportions, Case Fic, Cause it's me writing this, Crossover, Gen, Probably some whump at some point, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-01-31 00:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: Enzo Lamarie, the dangerous art thief with a side passion for funding terror organizations, has escaped from the prison Mac and Jack put him in two years ago.  Having been the only ones able to catch him, our favorite Phoenix agents team up with our favorite FBI agents.The mission:  Stop Lamarie, save countless lives and millions of dollars worth of stolen art, and maybe make a few new friends along the way.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Phoenix War Room. Breakfast time.**

"You're late," Matty called as Mac and Jack walked into the War Room.

"Sorry," Jack shrugged, no trace of an actual apology in his voice. "Mac stopped for donuts. I tried tellin' him we didn't have time."

"Sure he did," Matty rolled her eyes, cutting off Mac's protest before he even got a chance to open his mouth. "Forget the donuts. You two have a mission." She tapped the screen of the tablet in her hands and a map showed up on the wall behind her, a star over New York City. "I guess you'll be switching to bagels for a while."

"Sorry I'm late, someone brought donuts. New York?" Riley asked as she walked through the door and saw the destination, laptop case in one hand and a glazed donut in the other. "Awesome. When do we leave?"

"You don't. It's just Mac and Jack for this one. Anything they need you to override can be done remotely."

"What's in New York?" Mac asked.

"Not a what," Matty clicked on another picture and the wall behind her changed to a photo of a man in a tailored suit, blue eyes shining brightly beneath the shadow of a fedora. "But a who. Meet Neal Caffrey."

"Damn," Riley whispered appreciatively.

"I know," Matty agreed. "But don't let his looks fool you, he's as smart as he is gorgeous. Maybe more so."

"Hey, now," Jack protested. "We got our own pretty blue-eyed genius y'all can ogle whenever you want."

The look Mac shot him was half confusion and half glare.

"What?" Jack shrugged. "He ain't that special."

"What makes Neal special," Matty interrupted, pulling up another picture. "Is this."

"Is that a mug shot?" Riley's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"It is. Convicted on bond forgery, suspected of just about everything else you can think of to make a small fortune in the art world."

"And you're sending us all the way to NYC because he escaped?" Jack guessed. "What'd he do, forge his own pardon slip, walk right out?"

"No, Jack," Matty rolled her eyes. "And that's not how prison sentences work. Hold your questions until I'm done, okay? This man," another photograph popped up on her screen. "Is Agent Peter Burke, FBI, White Collar division."

"And he's asked for our help in catching Caffrey?" Mac guessed.

"No. Not that he would need it. Burke's good. He's already caught Caffrey, twice, and the two of them have formed a... bit of a truce. A unique partnership, that's allowing Caffrey to assist the Bureau in cases specific to his skill set."

"Kindred spirit," Riley's interest piqued again. "You sure you don't need me in New York, seems like a hell of a guy."

"Wait," Jack held up his hands, protesting, and stepped forward to get a closer look at the photographs projected onto the wall. "If this Neal guy has already been caught, twice, which means he managed to escape once already, I might add, and is out workin' as a CI, what's the FBI need us for? Seems like Burke's got it all under control."

"They will be joining your team for this one. Or, rather, you will be joining theirs. Remember him?" Matty asked as the pictures of Neal and Peter faded away, replaced by more sinister ones of Enzo Lamarie.

"Hey, I broke that guy's nose," Jack nodded, remembering. "After he went after me and Ri with a cattle prod. Wasn't he an art dealer?"

"See why I told you to wait until I was finished before asking questions?" Matty sighed.

"We put him away after that," Mac frowned, eyebrows drawing together as he double checked the dates in his head. "Last year. He's already out?"

"He's our escaped criminal," Matty began a slide-show of Lamarie's empty prison cell. "Not Caffrey. I got the call last week. Nobody had any leads, so there wasn't anything we could do."

"Until now." Mac clarified.

"Didn't this guy use the funds from his stolen artwork to like, fund terrorist organizations?" Riley asked. "That's why we went after him last time, right?"

"He did," Matty agreed. "And as if that wasn't bad enough, apparently serving some time has made him decide to up his game."

"Well, I don't know exactly what that means but I know I don't like the sound of it," Jack scratched at his chin. "You think he's in New York?"

"Lamarie has decided that instead of funneling portions of his money into multiple terrorist groups, he wants to be in control. So he created his own. We have reason to believe they are based in New York City."

"Okay," Mac's frown deepened. "I'm all for putting this guy back behind bars, but I'm not seeing how this ties into us teaming up with a formerly-convicted art thief and a white collar FBI agent."

"Enzo has decided that this is his new passion project," Matty continued. "He's putting all his chips on the table for this one."

"Starting your own personal terror cell isn't cheap," Jack added.

"No, no it is not," Matty agreed. "And he is so serious about it that he has decided to fund it with this..." The photo's of Lamarie were replaced by dozens of pieces of artwork. Paintings and sculptures flooded the wall of the War Room, all from varying artists and different styles.

"That's a Degas. And a Monet. That sculpture in the corner looks like a Rodin... Is this his private collection?" Mac asked, as his eyes scanned the wall, cataloging the pictures in his mind, placing an artist to the ones he recognized. "There's some impressive pieces there."

"It's not going to be his collection for much longer. He's put it up for sale. The entire lot."

Jack whistled. "That's gonna go for a pretty penny."

"Hundreds of millions," She agreed. "At least. He will have more than enough here to do some major damage if he puts that fortune into causing havoc. We have yet to even place an official estimate on the collection because we don't know for sure what all is in it. I'm sure you remember how private Lamarie is?"

"Yeah," Jack subconsciously reached out to rub at one of the scars at the bottom of his ribcage from the cattle prod. "Only worked through that squirrely Pawn dude."

"Which is where we ran into our first snag," Matty continued. "Both The Pawn and Lamarie himself have dealt with you and Mac personally. They will recognize you instantly and know that Phoenix is closing in on their organization."

"So we bring in Caffrey and Burke," Mac cut in, picking up on Matty's plan. "He won't recognize either of them and with Neal's history..."

"He won't even need a cover story," Matty smiled. "Just a plausible excuse as to why he's suddenly not working with the Bureau and he's in."

"In where, exactly?" Jack asked. "Some black market auction site?"

“They went with an abandoned mall last time,” Riley cut in. “Think that’s their plan again?”

"Abandoned, yes. As for the specifics?” A look of unease passed over Matty's face. "Honestly, guys? There's no way for us to know exactly what you're walking into on this one. The only thing we know for sure is Lamarie is dangerous."

Jack turned to Mac, meeting his partner’s eyes as the two shared a nod. “We’ll handle it,” He assured. “Are Burke and Caffrey expecting us?”

“They are,” Matty agreed. “But you need to remember that their team is working this from the art angle. Keeping the pieces preserved and getting them returned to their rightful owners is their top priority. Ours is taking Lamarie out and keeping a dangerous terrorist with an unlimited budget out of the game. You’re going to have to find a way to work together on this one.”

“Same end goal,” Mac shrugged “Not sure why it would be an issue.”

"Because the two of you have a loose grasp on the concept of rules," Matty sent them a serious scowl. "Phoenix, along with most covert agencies, is in a position to turn a blind eye to how exactly a mission gets completed so long as it ends with us getting the results we were hoping for. The FBI doesn't have that luxury. They have rules. Regulations. Protocol, that you will be expected to abide by and follow if you are working with them on this."

"I think we can manage," Jack's grin was confident as he reached out towards Mac for a fist bump. "When do we leave?"

“You’re wheels up in twenty,” Matty gestured towards the door. “Don’t screw this one up.”

**FBI Headquarters, New York**

“Man,” Jack pressed the elevator button for the floor Matty had assured them was the White Collar division as the doors closed around them. “Can you imagine livin’ like this? Working in an office building? Every single day?”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” Mac admitted with a smile. “Feel like it would get really boring really quick.”

"And the suits?" Jack added as the elevator doors opened, revealing the brightly lit office space. "No thank you. They don’t follow the rules all too well, that’s for sure, look. Hardly any of these stiffs are actually wearin’ a white collar."

“That’s not…” Mac turned around, fully prepared to launch into a lecture of why that particular branch of the FBI was named what it was when he saw the teasing smirk on his partner’s face. Mac was still biting back a laugh when he stopped at the first desk on the floor. "We're looking for Agent Burke?" He asked the woman sitting there.

"Up the stairs," She pointed without ever looking away from her computer screen. "First office on the right."

“Must be one hell of an agent,” Jack observed as they made their way through the maze of FBI Agents and desks. “To get an office up there with the big shots.” He continued unabashedly making eye contact and smiling at everyone who sent questioning looks their way.

“Matty said he’s one of the best,” Mac agreed, frowning when he noticed the way everyone was quickly looking away from them as if embarrassed to have been caught staring. He shook his head and let out a fond sigh when he realized what Jack was doing. “Is there anywhere you don’t make yourself right at home?” He asked as they climbed the short flight of steps leading to Peter’s office.

“I’m adaptable,” Jack shrugged as Mac reached out and knocked on the doorframe before entering the glass-walled room. “One of my many endearing qualities.”

“Agent Burke?” Mac asked, trying to channel some of Jack’s confidence into his own voice and make it sound as if he belonged there.

“That’s me,” Peter glanced up briefly before returning to the paperwork on his desk. “I’m not sure who sent you up here, but I have a very busy day, gentlemen. Whatever you need, make it quick.”

“We’re actually,” Mac tried to explain but he was interrupted by another voice joining the conversation.

“Mornin’ Peter,” the man Mac and Jack instantly recognized as Neal Caffrey called as he waltzed into the office as if it were his own, easily tossing his hat towards the lamp on the corner of Peter’s desk, landing it perfectly on the shade in a practiced move. “When does the super-scary covert ops team get here? I want to make a good first impression.”

“That would be us,” Jack announced, stepping forward. “And I’ve gotta say, neither one of you are exactly doin’ that at the moment.”

Neal’s already impeccable posture straightened even further as he noticed the two of them and Peter sent them a wary look. “You?” He asked, doubtful. “The two of you are the agents from the,” a pause while he glanced back down at the paperwork spread out across his desk. “The Phoenix Organization?”

“Never heard of them,” Neal leaned over Peter’s shoulder to read the name as well, checking to make sure he got it right. Peter swatted him away with an irritated wave of his hand.

“That’s kinda the point, slick,” Jack casually tossed a scoff over his shoulder to Mac. “That just means you weren’t ever a big enough problem for us to waste our time on.”

Neal’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It wasn’t often he came across someone confident enough to call him out, let alone directly to his face. “I think I like these guys, Peter.”

“Don’t get too attached,” Peter warned. “I want ID. Proof that you’re the agents sent over by Director Webber.”

“Phoenix doesn’t issue ID,” Mac explained, stepping up to Peter’s desk and pulling out the thin stack of confirmation papers he had rolled up and stuck in his back pocket when they left the plane. “But I think Director Webber,”

“Matty,” Jack cut in, blatantly ignoring the glares both Mac and Peter were shooting his way.

“I think everything you’re looking for should be in these.” He carefully unrolled the papers before handing them over to Peter. “If you have any more questions I’m sure they can be cleared up with a simple phone call.”

After a few moments of Peter scanning over the documents, with Neal hovering at his shoulder sneaking glances whenever he got the chance, Peter sighed. “Seriously? You two? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re great agents, you have to be or you wouldn’t be working where you are, but… I mean, you?” He gestured towards Jack. “You look like you’re straight out of some hourly-bodyguard-for-hire magazine and he’s just a kid! Looks like you just picked him up straight off of NYU’s campus.”

“No,” Neal shook his head, well-trained eyes picking up on the little details that had him convinced the unlikely pair were a lot more dangerous than they appeared. The callouses on Jack’s gun hand, fingers currently looped through his belt loops in a feign of casualty and there were at least three barely imperceptible discrepancies in the way his clothing was falling that assured he was carrying multiple weapons. While Jack was making a show out of seeming entirely relaxed in the unfamiliar situation, Mac was doing the exact opposite. He was practically standing at attention, holding level eye contact and doing a fairly impressive job of seeming like he was unphased by Peter’s apprehension. If it hadn’t been for his fingers, nervously dancing against his thighs, Neal might have just believed him. “No, I’ve never known of a bodyguard to show up for an interview in a vintage Ramones shirt. And there’s no way any self-respecting New Yorker would show up for one in flannel, college-kid or not. I think they’re legit.”

Jack nodded his thanks to Neal before turning his focus back to Peter. “If he’s old enough for Uncle Sam, he’s old enough for the FBI. You want our help or not?”

That caught Peter’s attention. “You served?”

“Yes sir,” Mac answered automatically. “Two tours together before we were recruited by the organization we work for now. Jack served another before we were partnered up and ran with a Delta crew before that but his first government position was through the CIA.”

“If we’re flauntin’ resumes I think we need to throw in how while I was with Delta you were studyin’ at MIT,” Jack added. “Those enough qualifications for ya or do you want more? Maybe we should talk about how we were the team to take Enzo Lamarie down last year? You got anyone else offerin’ to team up who can say that?”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, pondering, for a moment before standing up, sending his chair backward and out of his way as he walked the few feet around his desk and offered a hand out to Jack. “Peter Burke.”

Jack grinned as he shook Peter’s hand. “Jack Dalton.”

“MacGyver,” Mac answered when Peter held out his hand to him. “But, just call me Mac.”

“Mac and Jack,” Neal repeated, stepping forward to offer his own handshake. “I think they may have us beat in the dynamic duo category, Peter, their names even rhyme.”

“You two really the ones who put Lamarie behind bars?” Peter asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against his desk.

“Not just us, we had the rest of our team, but yeah,” Mac nodded. “That was us.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” Peter assured. “We’re glad for the help.”

“Boss,” A new voice joined the conversation, female, as the door to Peter’s office was swung open again. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you had company.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter smiled. “Diana, this is MacGyver and Dalton. They’re assisting with Lamarie. Diana’s one of my agents working on the case.”

“Yeah, hi,” She gave them a polite nod before turning back to Peter. “We got eyes on him.”

“Lamarie?” Neal’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” She held a surveillance photograph out to Peter who passed it down the line after looking it over, giving everyone else in the room a chance to view it. “Our crew sent that in ten minutes ago.”

“That’s him alright,” Jack confirmed. “Where was this at?”

“Outside a hotel in Midtown. One that’s conveniently under renovation and closed for the next four months.” Diana turned back to Peter. “You said to let you know the second we got anything.”

“I want to see for myself,” Peter grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “You two up for some surveillance?”

“Better than office work any day,” Jack cracked his knuckles with a smile.

“Suit up,” Peter turned to Mac. “Just in case this turns into something more exciting than just him casing an empty building.”

“I”m ready to head out whenever you are.” Mac stood his ground, unwavering, as he went through the familiar act. He liked Peter. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he trusted him. Which made it all the more difficult to stand still, unflinching as Peter eyed him up and down, searching his Henley and flannel and jeans over for any trace of a holster or the weapon he didn't have.

"He don't carry," Jack answered for him. It was a question they got asked nearly each time they were paired up with a new team and it upset Jack more and more each time. "It's fine. That's what I'm here for. We can head out whenever y'all are ready."

"What kind of special agent doesn't carry a gun?" Peter lifted an eyebrow in Mac's direction, completely ignoring Jack's assurance.

Slowly, Neal looked up from the doodle he was sketching on a scrap of paper from Peter's desk and raised his hand.

"What, Neal?" Peter sighed, closing his eyes against the headache he could already feel forming. There was a reason he chose to work white collar crimes and not a terrorism unit.

"Oh, I don't have a question," Neal grinned. "I was actually just answering yours. Me?" He. Continued when he saw the look of confusion on Peter's face. "Special agent, doesn't carry a gun?"

"You're a convicted felon, Neal," Peter rolled his eyes. "You aren't allowed to carry a gun. And you are also not an agent."

Neal's smile grew. "But you do think I’m special.”

“And special isn’t’ always a compliment,” Peter reminded him none-too-gently. “Let’s go.”

“Another stakeout in the van,” Neal’s voice was flat as he grabbed his hat off Peter’s desk lamp and flipped it onto his head with a twirl that left Jack digging an impressed elbow into Mac’s ribs. “Great.”

“Stakeouts ain’t that bad,” Jack said as he followed Peter down the stairs, leaving Mac and Neal trailing close behind. “So long as you got a decent radio station and good company. Maybe some snacks.”

“Thank you!” Peter exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to convince Neal of that for years. If we’re talking snacks, how do you feel about deviled ham?”

“Who in the hell don’t like deviled ham?”

From beside him, he heard Neal let out a pained sigh and Mac grinned. Leave it to Jack to make friends with the man he had been glaring at only moments before. And over questionable surveillance food at that. Shady art thief-turned-terrorist-leader aside, this was shaping up to be a pretty fun mission after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**FBI Surveillance Van**

To Jack’s dismay, the FBI frowned upon the recreational use of their sound systems so the stakeout was fairly quiet. They couldn’t see much from outside, just the partially-obstructed view their binoculars provided through the barred windows on the lower floor, but Diana had stayed at the office finding blueprints of the building.

“What is that?” Neal broke the silence, scooting closer to Mac on the bench seat and looking down at the twisted wires in his hand.

“Oh, well, it’s, um,” Mac wasn’t used to being asked to explain his habit. Though he didn’t bother turning around, Jack tensed from the other side of the van, ready to step in if Mac became any more uncomfortable. “When it’s finished it’s going to be the Williamsburg Bridge.”

“No, no,” Neal peered closer. “I can see that. It’s… pretty impressive, actually. What are you making it with?”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and spun around on his swivel chair to face the two younger men. “You won’t believe him when he tells you,” He warned.

“It’s obviously wire of some kind,” Neal continued, ignoring Jack while Mac dug through his pocket to pull out the rest of his stash. “No way,” He whispered in awe when Mac handed him the mess of paperclips. “Seriously?”

“Weird, I know,” Mac shrugged as he dug two more paperclips out of the tangle and set the rest on the computer desk beside him. “But they’re easy to find and travel with and it keeps my hands busy.”

“That’s not a habit,” Neal was protested, impressed. “That’s art.”

“He should know,” Peter cut in. “He’s stolen enough of it.”

“I make more than I steal,” Neal rolled his eyes, ignoring the barb. “Can I try?”

“Go for it,” Mac passed the spare clips over to Neal’s eager hands. “I’d start small though.”

“Did you know that until Williamsburg was constructed the Brooklyn Bridge was the longest suspension bridge in the world?” Neal asked.

“Until Williamsburg was completed in 1903,” Mac continued.

Jack turned back to Peter, voice solemn. “We’re locked in a van with a bunch of nerds,”

“Maybe not for much longer,” Peter handed his set of binoculars over to Jack. “That him? In the window?”

“Yup,” Jack confirmed after only a quick glance. “Lemarie and The Pawn. Those are the only two I recognize. And they don’t look happy.”

“Peter, can you tell what he’s saying?” Neal walked, awkwardly with his head ducked in the low-ceilinged van, closer to the front.

“Definitely not happy,” He confirmed, frowning as he strained to read Lamarie’s lips. “He’s on a cell but I can’t make out the words.”

“All this equipment and there’s no voice enhancers?” Mac looked around the small space, walls packed high with gadgets.

“Nothing from this far away.” Peter sighed. “If we’d known beforehand we could have placed a transponder in the building.”

“Just intercept his call,” Jack suggested. “Listen in.”

“Eh, we can, but it would take at least a day to get a tech crew on it. I’ll have Diana look into it, but that won’t help us now…” Peter’s voice trailed off when he noticed Jack was on his own phone, ignoring him. “Who are you calling?”

“Hey, Riley,” Jack grinned, holding up a finger to his lips, silencing Peter. “Need your help. Lamarie’s phone, can you hack it?”

“Wait,” Peter hissed, turning to Mac since Jack clearly wasn’t paying attention to him. “That’s not even legal.”

“Shh, Peter,” Neal hushed him, leaning closer to Jack to try and hear both sides of the conversation. “Let the man work.”

Jack’s smile grew. “Thank’s Ri. Talk soon.” He hung up the call and nodded to Peter. “Check your phone.”

“My phone?” Peter asked, pulling it out of his pocket with a scowl. “Why my phone? How’d you even find my number?”

“I didn’t, our girl did,” Jack explained. “Same way she found his.” He pointed out the window to Lamarie. “And she synced his call to yours. Check it out before he hangs up.”

Peter only caught the last moments of the phone call, but it was enough. "The real estate agent for the building's new owners, the ones who are doing all the renovations? He didn't show up for the tour. Lamarie's not happy about it either., That was a call to the real estate firm, saying they had fifteen minutes to send someone over to show him around the place or they would lose his business."

"I can go in," Neal suggested. "Real Estate? That's a breeze. And it would give us a great look inside the property. He'll literally pay me to notice any security weak spots and mark all the exits, that's way more valuable than the blueprints Diana's getting us, and I can convince him to pick this as the venue for his auction. Win-win."

"No," Mac shook his head. "He can't see you. Not before the auction. We need you going in then."

"And he already knows us," Jack reminded. "Can't send either of us in. Peter?"

"I can," Peter clearly wasn't happy with the idea. "But I was planning on going undercover to the auction as well. There's gonna be a lot of dangerous players there and I don't like the thought of sending Neal in alone and unarmed."

"Fifteen minutes, right?" Neal asked, a plan forming behind his blue eyes as he pulled out his own phone and sent a quick text. "He can get here."

"Who?" Jack asked, confused.

"A friend," Neal assured.

"A headache," Peter quickly corrected. "But it's our best chance."

Moments later a series of melodic knocks sounded throughout the van and Neal stepped forward to swing open the back doors. "Hey, Moz."

"Who are the not-suits?" Mozzie squinted through his glasses, warily eyeing Mac and Jack up and down.

"They're helping us with this case," Neal explained as he pulled the doors shut behind them. "I'll explain later but we need your help."

"As always," Mozzie sighed dramatically, sending Peter a pointed look.

"See what I mean?" Peter asked Jack with a roll of his eyes. "See that hotel?" He pointed towards the empty building. "Enzo Lamarie and his team are in there. They are considering renting the space for a private art auction later in the week. You're going in as the real estate agent giving him a tour of the place."

"Lamarie?" Mozzie's eyes lit up. "He's a legend!"

"He's a bad dude we're gonna take down. Again," Jack cut in. "You up for it or not?"

"Of course. I didn't say I was a fan, just that a man of his caliber is entirely deserving of the reputation he has built."

"Alright, get in there then." Neal reached over and straightened Mozzie's collar. "Keep track of entrances and exits, anything that could help us once we get in there."

"And convince him to choose this venue," Peter added. "Makes our job a whole lot easier if we don't have to case out twelve different buildings."

Mozzie's mumbled complaints about when exactly it became up to him to make the government sell-out's lives easier filled the air as he made his way out of the van.

"He seems..." Mac began but found himself at a loss for an accurate word.

"Hella weird?" Jack supplied.

"We go with eccentric," Peter sighed. "To keep feelings from getting hurt but you are not wrong."

"He'll get us what we need," Neal assured and sure enough, half an hour later the front door to the hotel opened.

"Movement," Jack announced, “Front entrance.”

"Lamarie looks happy," Peter observed, watching as the man shook Mozzie's hand with a smile. "I think we're good."

"Told you," Neal didn't bother looking up from the twisted mess of paperclips he was frowning down at in his hands. Mac had finished his sculpture of the Williamsburg Bridge already, it sat propped up against a row of monitors against the wall, but Neal was still struggling with his.

They watched as Lamarie and his group made their way down the street, Mozzie going the opposite direction until they were far enough away for him to safely double back. The same series of melodic knocks rang out as he tapped on the side of the van before opening the doors once more.

"Mission: complete." He announced with a flourished bow. "Your welcome."

"Good job, Moz. Thanks." Peter sent him an approving nod.

"Now are you going to tell me who the new guys are? It's bad enough I'm in a government-issued stalking machine with one suit."

"Mac and Jack," Neal answered. "Covert ops team sent in to assist with Lamarie."

"Covert ops?" Mozzie exclaimed. "That's worse than a suit! That's practically top-tier fed!"

Jack turned to Peter. "I don't think eccentric quite covers it."

"You're tellin' me," Peter agreed.

“Hey,” Mozzie caught sight of Mac’s finished sculpture. “Williamsburg. Nice.” Did you do that?” He asked Neal.

“No,” Neal held out his attempted recreation of the Brooklyn Bridge. “No this was mine. Don’t judge, it’s way harder than it looks. The kid’s talented.”

“Oh,” Mozzie turned Neal’s bent paperclip creation over in his hands before handing it back. “Well, it’s a very nice duck.”

“It’s not…” Neal protested but Peter quickly interrupted him.

“It looks more like a duck than it does a bridge, Neal. Let it go. Mozzie. Focus. What did you find out?"

Mozzie kept shooting wary glances between the two strangers in the van as he explained. "I convinced him to use the building. Your welcome. The auction is set for the day after tomorrow Sadly, I could not procure an invite.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Mac repeated. “Doesn’t give us much time to get ready.”

“We’ll manage,” Neal assured. “And the layout?”

“Standard.” Mozzie shrugged. “Staircase, two elevators, fire exit on each floor. He was asking a lot of questions about upping the security level of the basement, I’m assuming that’s where he’s planning on storing the art.”

“How secure is it?” Peter asked.

“Moderately sufficient. No elevator access, only one door which I would assume he intends to leave guarded. I told him he had permission to do whatever he wanted to make it fit his needs, hope that’s alright.”

“Windows?”

“Nada. Only other way in or out is through the air conditioning vents but I checked, they’re too small even for you or Malibu Ken over there to fit through.”

Jack barked out a laugh and Peter bit back a smile. “Alright, Mozzie, thank you. We owe you one.”

“You can pay up now. Ten minutes with the super-spy feds where they’re required to answer any and all of my questions.”

“No,” Peter answered with a shake of his head. “Never.”

“I’ll play,” Jack shrugged. “Whacha wanna know?” Peter, Neal, and Mac all sent him simultaneous looks warning just how bad of an idea that was, but Jack just grinned. “What? He helped us out and the man has questions.”

“Five minutes and then we’re leaving, with or without you still in this van.” Peter swiveled around to fully face Mozzie. “And you’re not allowed to ask anything regarding a matter of national security or any current crime.”

“Who cares about crime?” Mozzie scoffed, pulling up a chair of his own. “I want real answers. Area 51?”

“He means conspiracy theories,” Neal declared, relaxing. “We’re safe.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” Mac warned.

“Been there, done that,” Jack grinned. “Didn’t live up to all the hype. Moon landing?”

“Sure, if you actually believe in the moon.”

Mac sputtered but was unable to form a comment while Jack just solemnly nodded.

“Kennedy assination?” Mozzie continued.

“Inside job,” Jack confirmed. “Paul McCartney?”

“Oh, for sure the real one died in ‘66.”

“See, I’m not sure I believe that one,” Jack admitted, breaking their newfound rhythm. “They wouldn’t have had the technology to make that good of a stand-in back then.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Mozzie explained. “Bermuda Triangle?”

“Again, been there, done that,” Jack pulled the collar of his t-shirt away to reveal the bullet scar Harper Hayes had left him with back on that cursed island. “Totally cursed, never goin’ back.”

“Duly noted,” Mozzie made the mental memo to never travel there.

“Alright,” Peter clapped his hands. “We’re leaving. You want a ride, Moz?”

“To the suit-filled headquarters of death?” Mozzie scoffed. “I think not. Jack? It was lovely meeting you. You seem like one of the good ones. I’m sorry you have fallen victim to the government-funded ideology that is the American law enforcement system.” He swung the van doors open and called “Good luck with your con!” over his shoulder as he left.

“It’s not a con!” Peter yelled back but his voice was lost in the noise of the van door slamming shut. “Not a con.” He repeated. “A case.”

“Seriously?” Jack laughed. “A case? That’s really what y’all call ‘em?”

“What else would you call it?”

“A mission?” Mac supplied. “Job? Gig if it’s an easy one.”

“They’re right, Peter,” Neal morosely sat his paperclip creation down on the counter beside him, conceding to the fact that office supply sculptures were a field of art he simply didn’t excel in. “Those all do sound way cooler.”

“Calling it a case makes it sound like we’re in some cheesy buddy cop tv drama.” Jack continued.

“At this rate?” Peter sighed. “We might as well be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I don’t usually do multi-chapter fics, but this one kinda required it. I really want it to read like a legit crossover episode, so stick with me here cause while I have a vague plot lined out, but I’m just kinda winging it. My main focus on this first chapter was making sure I got everyone’s voices close to accurate. I’m pretty comfortable writing Mac and Jack by now, but this was my first ever attempt at Neal and Peter so I’m hoping it wasn’t too terrible. Hope you liked it, see y’all next chapter!


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